


Pretty? Funny.

by LuthienLuinwe



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Body Dysmorphia, Eating Disorders, Fainting, M/M, Mental Illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-10 00:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15279096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuthienLuinwe/pseuds/LuthienLuinwe
Summary: He pulled on his uniform pants and stared at the mirror. He didn’t know why he bothered anymore. He never saw anything good. The pants hugged his ass in all the wrong ways. Best ass in the universe, people always told him. Yeah right.Dick suffers from body dysmorphia and the batfamily tries to help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic deals with some potentially triggering material including but not limited to: poor body image, body dysmorphic disorder, and anorexic tendencies. If you have any concerns about a potential trigger, please reach out to me [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/luthienluinwe) and I will provide you with appropriate spoilers.

He pulled on his uniform pants and stared at the mirror. He didn’t know why he bothered anymore. He never saw anything good. The pants hugged his ass in all the wrong ways. Best ass in the universe, people always told him. Yeah fucking right. It was too big. He wore 32’s for God’s sake. Five percent body fat, and he had a pretty damn good idea of where it all was. 

He buttoned his shirt and focused on his tie, trying to look anywhere but his face. Was that mark new? Sure as hell looked like it. His forehead was broken out again. Stress would do that, his dermatologist had said. There was a bump on the bridge of his nose. No one could even see it, Kory had always told him. What the hell did she know anyway?

He wished he could just peel his face off, never have to look at it again. 

He stepped into the kitchen and measured out a cup of Rice Krispies and ate them dry. 104 calories. He’d have to work to burn that off. Five percent body fat. God, he wanted it gone, gone, gone. 

He grabbed his keys and pulled the door open, ignoring his buzzing phone. Why bother checking it? It would just be Jason’s ‘Did you eat breakfast?’ Just like every morning. Tim would ask at lunch and Bruce would ask at dinner. For fuck’s sake, he’d only passed out on patrol once… at least that they knew of. 

One cup of Rice Krispies. 

104 calories. 

It wasn’t like he’d meant to pass out. He had it under control (didn’t he?) He’d gained three pounds. Couldn’t have that. Needed that to go away. More training. Less eating. Just don’t pass out again. Just don’t get Bruce concerned again. Because the last fucking thing he needed was for Bruce to get concerned again.  _ You need a hospital,  _ Bruce had told him when he woke half-delirious in the Batcave.  _ You need to fuck off. _

Keys in the ignition, foot on the pedal. Try to ignore the light-headed feeling when driving to work. Don’t pass out at work. Not again.  _ Maybe we should call someone? I’m fine. I really think we should call someone… I’m fine. _

He swore when he hit his head on the top of the car. Too tall to be a gymnast. Too short to be a superhero. He’d always been the tallest in every damned gymnastics club, towering over the others. Coaches dreaded whoever had to help him onto the high bar. Why shouldn’t they? The day he realized he was taller than his father had been had been one for the books in the Wayne Household. Alfred told him he’d never seen someone quite that depressed over growing an inch.  _ Just one more thing separating me from them. _

“Grayson,” his partner greeted, and Dick forced a smile. His stomach growled and he tried to ignore it. He’d put 104 calories into it. He needed to get them out.  _ Easy way to do that,  _ the dark voice in his mind that he kept trying to push away told him. “You look like shit.”

“Good to see you too,” Dick rolled his eyes and got into the squad car. He could see his reflection in the side-view mirror. Dark circles under his eyes. He needed to work on his concealer technique. Couldn’t have those dark circles. And God, that bump on his nose… He’d thought about asking Bruce for a nose job when he was a teenager.  _ He would have said no.  _ Didn’t he know how much happier it would make Dick to have a brand new, bumpless nose? 

But no, he was stuck with this one and that hideous bump that everyone swore they couldn’t see, but how couldn’t they? It was right there, for God’s sake. Were they blind? Was he crazy? And all those liars who kept telling him he was pretty and attractive could go to hell where they belonged because he was ugly and he knew they were just trying to fuck with his head.

_ Don’t like your nose? Don’t worry, Daddy can buy you a new one,  _ his high school bully had told him more than once.

His phone buzzed again, and he rolled his eyes when he checked it. ‘Did you eat this morning?’ ‘Dick, seriously, did you eat?’ ‘This isn’t funny. Stop ignoring me.’

‘Chill, Little Wing,’ he’d responded. ‘I ate this morning. Everything’s fine.’ God, why couldn’t they just leave him alone for once? It had been weeks. He was fine. Or at least that’s what he kept telling himself. The better he convinced himself, the better he convinced them.

“Everything okay?” his partner asked, and Dick shot him a movie-star smile and a nod and a ‘just great,’ before focusing back on the side view mirror. Had his face always looked like that? He was pretty sure it wasn’t symmetrical. No one liked an asymmetrical face.  _ Don’t worry, Daddy can buy you a new one. _

He frowned when his partner pulled into a drive thru. Great, the last thing he needed was to fill his body with more garbage. “You want anything?” the man asked, and Dick just shook his head. The smell of the greasy food alone was enough to make him want to vomit. He’d already put 104 calories into his body. He could wait the rest of the day before worrying about adding anymore. “Do you ever eat? I swear, sometimes I think you’re an alien or somethin’.”

Dick forced a chuckle, it was easier than trying to argue. Everyone liked a guy with a good sense of humor. No one ever thought there was something wrong with him. God, if only they knew.  _ You need a hospital,  _ the words kept repeating in his head. He could still see the look on Bruce’s face, the dark circles under his eyes, the clenched jaw, the question in his eyes of whether he should yell at Dick or hug him.  _ You need to fuck off. _

 

* * *

“Grayson?” he groaned and slowly opened his eyes. God, his head hurt. What had happened? They’d been on patrol. Routine traffic stop. Standard Field Sobriety Test…  _ Sir, I need you to track my finger with your eyes without moving your head…  _ God, everything was pounding, and the ringing in his ears wouldn’t go away. He tried to push himself into a sitting position and groaned when his partner moved to help support him. “The hell happened, man?”

Dick shook his head, unsure himself, though a tiny voice in the back of his head was scolding him.  _ Should’ve eaten some sugar in your stupid cereal.  _ “I’m fine.”

“You were out cold,” the man shook his head. “Another minute, and I’d have called a damned ambulance.” He felt his pulse start to raise. No. Ambulance was bad. “We had to call your emergency contact.” Shit. No. That was worse. 

He reached for his phone. Four missed calls from Jason Todd. Several missed texts. ‘Dick, why the fuck is your work calling me?’ ‘Seriously, this isn’t funny.’ ‘You fucking passed out? Are you fucking kidding me?’ ‘I’m on my way.’

He saw Jason pull up on his motorcycle, swerving it into a stop before kicking out the stand and removing his helmet. “Hey,” Dick sighed, unable to make eye contact with him. He didn’t need to see the disappointment and the fury to know that it was there.  _ You never pass out,  _ Bruce had told him.  _ What’s going on? _

“You said you ate this morning,” Jason sighed, arms crossed. Did they have to have this conversation in front of everyone? Because he had eaten.

One cup of Rice Krispies.

104 calories.

And even then, he still wanted them gone.

  
  
  



	2. Unpretty

**“I wish I could tie you up in my shoes, make you feel unpretty too.”**

“You wanna talk about it?” Jason asked, and Dick rolled his eyes and stared out the window. His partner never should have called Jason. It wasn’t like it was that big of a deal. He hadn’t been out that long. And it had been weeks since the last time he’d passed out at work. Getting better, Bruce had told him. Why the hell did he need to get better? There was nothing wrong with him, well, other than the five percent body fat and the ass that was too big and the bump on his nose and the fact that he was breaking out, and he was too short and too tall at the same time…

“Do I get a choice?” he asked and pretended not to hear Jason’s resigned sigh that followed. Jason deserved better. He’d always deserved better. He could find someone twice as attractive as Dick who would make him twice as happy. 

“I was worried sick,” Jason said after a long pause. “I thought you’d been shot or something when I saw three missed calls from your partner.” Dick started to open his mouth to say something, to argue that it wasn’t his fault his partner had called Jason in the first place. To argue that he never meant to pass out in the first place. And he  _ had  _ eaten, even if it hadn't been much. “Don’t.” Jason shook his head. “Just… Don’t, okay?”

“Okay,” Dick responded and focused on the road flying past them, the cars driving on either side, anything other than Jason with his set jaw and death grip on the steering wheel. 

“You need help,” Jason added as he pulled into a parking space in the garage of whatever shitty apartment complex he was staying at that week. Dick got out of the car carefully. The world was still spinning around him, and black spots were still dancing in his vision, even after the protein bar Jason had all but forced down his throat.

“I’m fine,” Dick rolled his eyes and followed Jason to the elevator. Damn thing would probably fall apart with Jason in it one day. Dick never had trusted those things. Still, he stepped inside, watched Jason hit the number 15, leaned against the handrail, and waited.

The silence was always worse than the fighting. The silence was always filled with things they wanted to say, wanted to scream, but didn’t dare for fear of the other leaving. Silent hatreds. Silent dreads. Silent fears.

When was the last time Dick had seen Jason so worried? 

He didn’t remember.

And he’d been the one to cause it.

Dick rolled his eyes when he saw Jason grab a frying pan and crack two eggs into it. “Don’t,” the younger man said, voice sharp, before Dick could even open his mouth. Two eggs. 182 calories. More than he wanted. More than he needed… It would take too long to burn all of that. And the 250 calorie protein bar on top of it? He didn’t want to think about it. “You’re eating them,” Jason added, and Dick watched as he threw some leftover vegetables in for good measure.

Starchy vegetables. They'd go straight to his ass and his uniform would fit all wrong, and people would still compliment him on it even though he knew they were just being polite and they really all thought it was just as ugly as he thought it was.  


“I’m not hungry,” Dick insisted, but the death-glare Jason sent him was enough for him to shut his mouth.

“That’s bullshit,” Jason set a plate down in front of him, and Dick just glared. What the hell did Jason know about anything? Jason was perfect, probably never had an insecure day in his life. Except for maybe some bad thoughts about the residual scarring that survived the Lazarus Pit. He watched Jason sit down across from him and cross his arms. “Humor me?” Dick glared daggers and pushed the eggs around on his plate. Just the smell of them alone made him want to gag. “This shit could kill you, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dick rolled his eyes. They’d learned about it enough in school. He may not have been able to control his height, but by God he could control his weight and other aspects of his appearance. God, though, his height… He never would have made it as a proper trapeze artist, not when he was that tall: a good three inches taller than his father had been, almost a foot taller than his mom… “Do I have to do this? I ate the protein bar…”

“Just eat the damn eggs, Dick,” Jason sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Sometimes Dick wondered why he didn’t dye the white streak. Didn’t it bother Jason that his hair was two different colors?

Did Jason ever worry about any of this shit?

_ What’s the matter, Grayson? Hate your face? Don’t worry. Daddy can buy you a new one. _

He forced himself to eat some of the food in front of him, rolling his eyes again when he heard Jason sigh in relief. Why did he have to worry so damn much? Dick had it under control. He knew what he was doing. So he’d passed out at work again. So what? “You need help, Dick.”

“You need to drop it,” Dick responded and pushed his plate away with more force than he needed to. God, he wished Jason would just get angry, yell at him, something… But he just sat there, face resigned before standing and clearing the plate away. “Did you tell B?”

“Because I talk to B so often,” Jason scraped the food into the trash and put the plate in the sink. An uncomfortable silence fell between them, lasting longer than Dick would have liked. “I won’t tell him this time, but I swear to God if it happens again…”

If?

More like a when.

He’d have to be more careful, try harder. No sense in worrying the others. Nothing good ever came out of it.

“I don’t get it, Dick,” Jason sighed and leaned his back against the corner counter, arms crossed over his chest. “I would kill to look like you, and you’re doing shit like this to yourself…”

Dick just shook his head not bothering to reply. Jason didn’t get it. None of them did. None of them ever would. He didn’t want to be like that. He just… was. And they only saw the good, and not the bump on his nose or his too big butt or how he was too tall and too short all at the same time.

He was glad the rest of them didn’t have to deal with any of that.


End file.
